


Other lives we may have lived

by thevernacularium



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Charles deserves love, During Canon, Eventual Smut, F/M, POV Charles, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, no beta we die like cowboys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29614614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevernacularium/pseuds/thevernacularium
Summary: Arthur has been gone for too many days, and Charles grows worried. He ropes John into searching with him and they track down their friend.They find him in company of someone doesn't expect, a woman who intrigues and surprises him. There's something familiar in her eyes.
Relationships: Charles Smith (Red Dead Redemption)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. An injury

**Author's Note:**

> This story starts 3 months before the events of Blackwater, and will culminate after the events of RDR2. Consider yourselves warned. 
> 
> updates will be sporadic. comments are welcome and appreciated.

Arthur had been gone for days. It wasn’t unusual for him to drift off for a few days at a time, either on a job, hunting, or tracking down leads on work. He always returned a little tired, but with food and money next to his name in the ledger. Charles had been running with the Van der Linde gang for around 3 months and Arthur had always floated in and out, spending a few days in camp, but mostly roaming around the surrounding countryside. 

This had been the longest that he’d been away since Charles had met him. Somehow it felt different. As the days crept by, Charles' concern began to rise, he looked expectantly towards the path leading to camp but was met with nothing but lonesome forest. It had been nearly two weeks when he mentioned it to John. John had shrugged it off, grumbling that the prize pony got to do whatever he wanted so long as he turned up with full saddlebags at the end of his sojourn. 

Eventually though, the worry crept up on John too. He made a comment to Dutch one night around the fire, and Dutch had stroked his moustache in thought. “That boy always did like to ramble, but he brings back the bacon, so to speak.” he waved off John’s concern, leaving John broiling in frustration. 

Hosea looked at John across the fire. “You’re right John,” he said quietly. “It’s been too long. Why don’t you and Charles head out, see if you can catch wind of him.”

They had ridden out early the next morning. They stopped in the usual places, checking in with local fences, surreptitiously peeking at the wanted boards for a poster with Arthur’s face… Charles skimmed the local papers to see if Arthur’s name had come up. It was three days and 4 towns before they got their first promising lead. They had camped outside of strawberry and travelled into town to get the lay of the land. Charles had picked up a newspaper while John stopped into the local sheriff’s office under the guise of looking for a bounty. 

“Think we might have something.” Charles said, when John rejoined him.

“Oh yeah, lets see.”

Charles handed him the paper, and pointed to a small article, buried on page four. 

* * *

_ “Citizens of Strawberry were shocked by a display of violence that the town had not seen in many months when a lone ruffian kicked up trouble at the local saloon. Witnesses say the troublemaker had entered the saloon for a drink and had become embroiled in an argument with two local boys. Words, then fists were exchanged and eventually one of the local boys pulled a gun, firing into the unknown man’s arm.  _

_ The unknown man retaliated with fire and force, killing his assailant dead with a single shot to the head. He took flight from the saloon and was pursued by law enforcement, but narrowly escaped. Witnesses were unable to identify the murderer, but reported that he had been shot in the shoulder before riding off. The suspect was described as approximately 6 feet tall, blonde, blue eyed, riding a snow white Arabian mare. He should be considered armed and dangerous. Anyone with knowledge of a man matching this description should report the matter to the Strawberry sheriff’s office.” _

* * *

John scrubbed a gloved hand over his face “Sounds like him.” He said with a sigh. 

Charles grunted in response “He does have a pretty identifiable horse.” 

“That’s rich coming from you… “ John replied, nudging Charles in the ribs. “Grey spotted Appaloosas don’t exactly grow on trees either.”

The bigger man shrugged “Never said it was a bad thing. At least we can be pretty sure we’re on the right track.” 

John made a thoughtful sound. “Jesus I can’t believe I didn’t think of this earlier.” He shook his head. 

“What?” Charles raised an eyebrow. 

“I know where he is. C’mon, it’s a bit of a ride but we’ll get there by nightfall.” 

* * *

The pair rode north of strawberry, up into the mountains. It was dusk when John directed Charles to turn up a small footpath off the main trail. The path wound up into the trees, before bringing them to a clearing with a small cabin. It was picturesque. The view of Mt Shan was stunning, and a small creek could be heard bubbling nearby. The cabin had a small, but well kept garden out front with wildflowers growing by the door. 

“Where are we exactly?” asked Charles quietly as he dismounted. John followed suit.

“You’ll see.” He said “Oh and Charles?”

“Yeah?”

“Just stay calm. She don’t like strangers much.”

As if on cue, the front door opened with a bang. Charles instinctively reached for his sawed off.

“Who the hell are you.” a loud, angry voice came from the porch. “This here’s private property and you ain’t welcome.”

Charles looked to the porch and saw a woman standing there, with a rifle trained on him. She wore high-waisted, wide leg pants and a white fitted blouse. Her hair was pulled back in a long braid. 

“Charles.” he responded. “Charles Smith, ma’am. Don’t mean you no harm.” he kept his hands raised. 

“No offense Mr Smith, but I’ve heard that one before. Armed men don’t come up here unless they mean harm.”

“Lovely to see you as always Eleanor.” called John, as he stepped around Taima and into view. “Your garden is looking fine this year.”

She shifted her gaze to John, bringing the rifle with her. He paused, raising his hands in peace. “And why exactly would I be happy to see your ugly mug, Marston. You don’t bring nothin’ but trouble.”

“Oh C’mon Ellie, I ain’t all that bad am I?”

“That's debatable”

“I think you know why we’re here.”

The woman, Eleanor, lowered the rifle slowly, her gaze softened and she let out a sigh. “Fine. Come on in. Boots off at the door.”

“Yes Ma’am.” replied John and he slowly walked towards the door, motioning for Charles to follow him. Charles raised an eyebrow but said nothing. 

The cabin was cozy on the inside. It was well appointed for such a small space. A patched sofa, scrubbed wooden table, and mismatched chairs adorned the living space. There was a lively fire crackling in the fireplace, basking the room in a warm glow. Charles slid his boots off at the door and stepped tentatively into the house. He never felt quite at home indoors, like civilized spaces weren’t built for his large frame. He always felt a bit nervous being confined within four walls. 

“There’s coffee over the fire Johnny. Why don’t you and your friend get warm, then we’ll talk.” Eleanor said.

John moved through the cabin like he knew it, grabbing mugs from the kitchen, passing one to Charles once he’d filled it with steaming hot coffee. 

The three of them were silent for a moment. Charles’ gaze raked across the cabin, taking in the art on the walls, the vase of flowers on the table, before landing on a familiar lancaster repeater by the door. He motioned to John who nodded. 

“How is he Ellie?”

Eleanor locked onto John’s gaze. “Better than when he first arrived. You know what happened?”

John shook his head “Read something in the paper that sounded like him. FIgured if he was this close, he’d try to get here if he was in trouble.”

“At least he’s predictable.” she said with a fond smile. 

Charles was silent throughout the exchange, not wanting to butt in. He was trying to figure out how Eleanor fit into John and Arthur and was failing miserably. He’d heard Arthur talk of someone named Mary, and the girls around camp had whispered the name Eliza in hushed tones, but never an Eleanor. 

“Who’s the muscle?” she asked John, motioning to Charles. “You really think I’m that big of a threat, you gotta bring back up?”

John laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ellie I’m well aware that you could kill both of us with one foul look. Charles an’ me wouldn’t stand a chance if you wanted us dead. He’s a friend of mine. Of Arthur’s too.”

“I’ve met your… friends… before Johnny. Can’t say I’m overly pleased to be playing host to a band of outlaws again.”

“Oh don’t you worry about Charles. He ain’t like the rest of us. He’s a good man. Really. Good all the way down. Was him who first noticed that Arthur was missing.”

Charles remained silent. His gaze flicked up to meet Eleanor’s. Her blue-green eyes caught his across the room, and he was struck with a sudden understanding. “Didn’t know he had a sister.” he said slowly, not breaking her gaze. 

“Half-sister.” she responded. “How…?”

“Your eyes.”

She cracked a thin smile. “Only good thing Daddy ever gave us. You’re mighty perceptive Mr Smith.”

Charles shrugged and sipped at his coffee. “That and you make your coffee just like he does. Black as hell, strong as death.” There was a warmth in her gaze that he liked. 

“He’s in the bedroom. Probably sleeping. I had to give him a fair bit of morphine to convince him to sit down and shut him up, you know what he’s like, always tryin’ to get back up before he’s ready. It wasn’t good. He’d lost a lot of blood and it wasn’t a clean wound.”

“He gonna make it?” asked John quietly. 

“Think so. I got it clean and sutured. Put on a good poultice to keep the infection down. So long as he don’t get a fever I think he’ll be alright.”

“Thank you Ellie.” sighed John. “I don’t know what he’d have done without you.”

She stood and ushered the men toward the bedroom door. “His bandage needs changing so if you want to see him, now’s a good time. Hopefully I can rouse him enough to eat something.”

Arthur was laid out on her bed, wrapped in blankets, with one shoulder swaddled in a thick bandage. s. 

“What are you using on him?” asked Charles, examining the mash of herbs in the poultice as Eleanor unraveled the bandage.

“Yarrow, Burdock root, golden currant. An old family speciality.” 

The wound was clean, and her stitches were neat, pulling together the ragged flesh around the bullet wound. The skin around the wound was rosy, but seemed as healthy as could be expected. 

“Had to dig the bullet out. Bad business.”

“Don’t imagine he liked that very much.” huffed John.

“I swear, I use more Morphine on him than I do on anyone else. It’s like knocking out a bull moose tryin’ to get him to calm down.”

She stepped away to gather more bandages, and a mortar and pestle to grind up more herbs. She passed the grinding dish to Charles, full with fresh herbs. “If you’d be so kind Mr Smith.” he took it from her and worked the herbs into a paste with practiced movements. Charles was no stranger to Herbal remedies. Arthur stirred while she slathered the herb paste onto his shoulder. 

“You back with us Sunshine?” she said softly. 

He groaned. “Unfortunately.” his eyes fluttered opened, focusing slowly. 

“John?” he turned his head. “Charles? What are you…”

“Seems you didn’t hide your trail as well as you might like to think Cowboy.” said Eleanor affectionately. “I never get so many Gentleman callers as when you’re around.” She wrapped the bandage snuggly across his shoulder and brushed a hand across his cheek. “C’mon lets sit you up. You gotta eat something. John, there’s stew in the pot out there, grab a bowl full would you.”

Eleanor made to bring a spoonful of the stew to Arthur’s mouth. “C’mon Eliie I’m a grown man, I can feed myself.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Fine then, Mr “Grown-Man-Morgan”. I’ll just put this on the table over here and you can eat it on your own.” She stood and placed the bowl off to the side. Arthur struggled to sit more upright and made to move his injured arm, grimacing in pain. He tried again, the arm refusing to cooperate. 

“Goddamnit Arthur.” sighed Charles. “You’re gonna rip your stitches. Stop being so stubborn.” 

Arthur sighed in defeat. 

Charles picked up the bowl and brought it closer to Arthur. “Who you want helping you?”

“Don’ matter.” Arthur grumbled. “Just… just don’t like being a burden ‘s’all.”

Ellie sat back down on the bed with a sigh “How many times I gotta tell you Arthur, your my kin, you ain’t a burden.” She ran a tender hand across his hair, and he nuzzled into the touch. 

“Sorry Ellie.”

“It’s OK, big brother. Just stop being such a fool… let me take care of you, alright?”

She took the bowl back from Charles, her fingers brushing over his. “Why don’t you fellas make yourselves at home. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

John and Charles retreated to the living space while Eleanor fed Arthur. 

“Half-sister huh?” asked Charles quietly. “Never heard him talk about her.”

“She and Dutch don’t get on.” John said simply, as if it explained everything. 

“Still,” Charles continued. “They seem real close.”

“Wasn’t always like that.” John stared into the fire. “She didn’t grow up in the life like he did. She had.... A real childhood. A real family I guess.” he paused and sighed “It ain’t really my story to tell.” 

Eleanor re-entered the room a few minutes later. “He’s sleeping again.” she said quietly. “It’s getting late fellas. You planning on spending the night?

“Don’t mean to impose Ellie.” said John. 

“Yes you do Johnny.” she said with a smile. “I’m on the sofa until Arthur recovers so I can offer you the shed. It ain’t too bad out there this time of year. 

“Thanks Ellie.” John stood and made to walk towards the door. Eleanor grabbed him by the wrist as he moved past her and pulled him into a hug. 

“It’s good to see you John. Really.” She placed a light kiss on his cheek. 

“You too Ellie.” he returned the hug before slipping his boots on. 

“It’s been nice to meet you Mr Smith.” she turned her blue-green gaze to Charles, raking over him.

“Thank you Miss Morgan.” Charles said with a small smile. “Your brother’s lucky to have you.”

They set out their bedrolls in the shed. Sleep came quickly after the events of the day.

Charles dreamed of blue-green eyes. 


	2. morning light, evening breeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Eleanor share

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has not been beta'd even a little bit.

Charles woke early the next morning to the sound of John snoring next to him, his mouth lolling open in his sleep. He left the shed as silently as he could, moving into the mist filled clearing. Taima was hitched to a nearby tree, Charles strode towards her, fishing a carrot from his jacket pocket to offer her. She snorted affectionately and nosed into his hand. 

The clearing was quiet, save for the distant sound of birds, and the soft bubbling of the creek. It was a beautiful morning, the sky had begun to turn pink with the coming dawn, and a soft breeze rustled through the trees. Charles liked these early mornings, especially back in camp where there was always so much noise and bustle. The early mornings were free from the clamour of people. Tensions at camp had been high. Dutch has designs on a big job in Blackwater, and his plans brought with them the cloud of impending stress. It felt good to have these days away from camp, breathing cool mountain air. Prior to joining the Van Der Linde gang 3 month ago, he had been on his own for a long time. While he enjoyed the safety and camaraderie of the gang, he missed the soft quiet of the time he spent on his own. 

The sun was just starting to rise, peaking over the horizon, filling the clearing with soft orange light. He sat on the porch with a sigh and pulled his knife from it’s sheath on his belt, and began to work on some arrow shafts. He had a collection of flint in his saddlebag that had been shaped into arrowheads already, but preparing the shafts was time consuming and finicky work. He used the quiet of the morning to focus on making the shafts straight so his shot flew true. 

The creaking of the cabin door broke him from his reverie. Soft footsteps on the wooden boards behind him. 

“You’re up early Mr. Smith.” Eleanor’s voice was soft as she sat on the edge of the veranda, her bare feet skimming the dew covered grass. 

He looked towards her with a small smile. “Usually am. Mornings are quiet.” 

She hummed in affirmation. They sat quietly together, watching the sun rise across the clearing. The soft breeze played with Charles’ loose hair. He hadn’t yet pulled it back into his usual braid. 

“How long have you known Arthur?” Eleanor broke the silence.

“Not long. Just a few months really.”

“Long enough to be worried about him when he disappeared?” 

“ Long enough to know what sort of man he is. Long enough to know his habits.” 

“You’re an observant man.”

Charles flicked his gaze up to her. Her fingers played with the hem of her shirt, her hair was smoothed back in a long plait. He shrugged. “Most folks aren’t that hard to read.” 

They sat in silence another moment. Eleanor shifted back into the cabin for a moment and returned with two steaming mugs of coffee. “My brother likes to think he’s a complicated man. He’d be disappointed to hear that you saw him so plainly.” 

Charles chuckled, tying off a final arrowhead and placing it next to him “ Oh Arthur’s an enigma , but he’s good where it matters. That much I can see clear as day.” 

Charles finished the arrow shaft he was working on and placed his knife back in it’s sheath on his thigh. “Beautiful spot you’ve got here.” he murmured. 

“Arthur helped me find it.

“You seem real close.”

“Not as close as I’d like. He drops by for medical care more often than he does social calls.” She stared off into the distance, her gaze looked a little sad. “You’re right about him. He’s an enigma. Drives me halfways crazy most days, but he’s the best man I know, even if he won’t admit it.”

They sat in companionable silence while Chrles fletched his new arrows. Eleanor amde grits for breakfast, and the pair were sitting on the porch eating when John finally stumbled out of the shed into the midmorning sun. 

“Good of you to join us Marston.” teased Charles. 

John grumbled to himself as her walked into the house to collect of bowl of food and a mug of coffee. 

“You two seem to be getting on.” he said, motioning to charles and Eleanor with his spoon.

“You finally brought me some decent company Johnny. Where’ve you been hiding this gentleman outlaw. The rest of you lot could learn a thing or two about manners from Mr Smith here.”

Charles flushed a little. “I’m no gentleman Ma’am. 

~~~~

Arthur was well enough to leave bed that day. He wandered out onto the porch around mid-day, trying to wrestle his injured arm into his shirt sleeve. Eleanor had jumped up and cuffed him playfully across the head when she saw him “What in the hell do you think you’re doing Arthur Morgan. You can’t be moving your arm like that you fool, you’ll undo all my work.” He had grumbled, but sat down on a crate on the porch and let his sister tend to him. She wrapped his arm in a sling and shook her finger at him “Goddamit Arthur you stubborn old goat. You pulled out 3 stitches! Johnny go grab the moonshine, I gotta stitch up this idiot again”

Charles laughed quietly as the siblings bickered. Despite her harsh words, Eleanor had looked at Arthur with great fondness throughout their exchange. Once she had stitched him up again, and re-dressed his wound they foursome all sat on the porch. Arthur had reached out and grabbed Eleanor’s hand and pulled her into a hug. “Thanks Ellie.” he said quietly. “I know I drive you mad, but I can’t count on no one else like I can count on you.” 

She squeezed him in return “Would it kill you to come see me sometime when you aren’t bleeding? I almost forget what you look like uninjured.”

They stayed for nearly a week while Arthur healed. John had ridden into strawberry the first day to send a letter to Dutch and the others, letting them know that they were alright, but would be delayed. He hadn’t mentioned where they were. Charles had raised an eyebrow at this. 

“Like I said.” John said with a shrug. “Ellie and Dutch don’t get on. It’s easier for everyone if he don’t know.”

Charles kept himself busy chopping wood, and started on some small repairs around the house. He set some snares in the woods to trap game and restock Eleanor’s larder for after they left. 

“You don’t need to do all that, really Mr Smith.” she’d said with a smile.

“My mother would be ashamed of me if I proved a poor houseguest Miss Morgan. She raised me better than that.”

“Please,” she replied, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear “It’s just Ellie.”

“If you say so.” they locked their gaze for a moment. Her ocean blue eyes looked so much like Arthur’s, but held a warmth that he only saw in her brothers on rare occasion. It seemed that her default nature was kindness. 

The night before they left, John and Arthur took to drinking, and had both passed out under the stars after laughing themselves silly. Charles and Eleanor sat on the porch, listening to the crickets in the grass. Both of them had drunk enough that the cool breeze of the night didn’t faze them. 

“How’d you end up with these fools?” she asked, looking over at him. 

Charles sighed. “Caught Marston robbing my snares. Probably woulda blown his head off if Arthur hadn’t turned up to smooth over the situation. I’d been on my own for a long time. Done what I needed to do to survive as a man alone in the world.” he paused. “It’s…nice… to be around others that I can trust.”

Eleanor gave a soft laugh. “Arthur’s been saving John’s hide for as long as both of them can remember. I’m glad he did though. He might be a weasel, but he’s a good man in his own way. He just don’t act like it all the time.”

“How about you?” Charles said, turning his body towards Eleanor. “How’d you end up out here on your own. Haven’t seen too many women homesteading alone.”

She met his gaze, the soft lantern light catching in her hair. “Oh that’s a long story I’m afraid.”

“We got time.”

She turned and gazed out into the distance, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. “‘Fraid in order for this to make any sense I gotta start at the beginning.” 

Charles shrugged and gave her a small smile. “ gotta start somewhere I guess.” 

“Arthur and I didn’t grow up together, but we had an overlap for a while when we were young. We have the same Daddy, Lyle Morgan. He was a real snake, rotten to his core. Arthur’s Momma Beatrice was Daddy’s wife. She died when Arthur was real young. Cholera I think, but I don’t know for sure. My momma was a rancher’s daughter. Had a family. Not rich or anything, but well off enough that they didn’t have to worry for money. She died in childbirth. My granddaddy was furious. Dropped me on Lyle Morgan’s doorstep like I was supposed to be his punishment or something. Arthur took care of me. Kept me warm and fed, stood between me and Daddy when he took to drinking. Eventually Daddy got caught by the law and hung.” her shoulders sagged. 

Charles felt the sudden urge to bring her hand into his. Like his touch would help ease her burden. He held the urge back and fidgeted with his liquor bottle. 

“I remember that Arthur held me so close. Wouldn’t let me watch when they hung him. He was maybe 11 or 12 at the time , but to me he seemed so big. I must have been 5, maybe 6. The don’t remember much about Daddy, just that he was an awful man. Drunk all the time, whooped us both anytime we got outta line. I wasn’t sad to see him go.”

“Arthur’s made comments similar to that.” Said Charles softly. 

Eleanor gve small shiver. Charles snagged a nearby blanket to drape over her shoulders. He could feel the warmth of her through the blanket, his touch lingering a bit before withdrawing away. She pulled the blanket close around herself before continuing. 

“Arthur knew who my granddaddy was. He took me by the hand and marched down to the ranch house and pounded on the door until someone opened. ‘You gotta take care of her’ I remember him yellin’ ‘She’s your kin, you can’t let her go to the orphanage.’ They whisked him away, but let me stay. I didn’t want him to leave. Held it against him a long time. As a child it felt like my hero, my big brother didn’t want me. I know that he just wanted me to have a chance at a good life, but it took a long time to understand that.”

“I didn’t see him again until I was 11. I ran away from home to look for him. Found him in a little shitty livestock town in New Austin. He’d been running with Dutch for a couple years by then. The look on his face when he saw me, it was like he’d seen a ghost. He took me straight home again. Dropped me at the gate. I think Granddaddy woulda shot him on sight. Granddaddy sent me to boarding school after that. I saw Arthur again when I was 18. I’d finished up school and was trying to get away from granddaddy. He wanted to marry me off. Make me someone else's problem I guess. Found Arthur in a saloon in West Elizabeth and slapped him so hard across the face he nearly lost a tooth. I told him that if he tried to take me back to granddaddy again I’d kill myself. He let me stay that time but He tried to convince me that his life weren’t for me. I wouldn’t hear any of it. He introduced me to Dutch.” she said Dutch’s name like it was venomous. “I know you’re in the fold, so to speak, but I don’t trust that man. I’ve spent enough time around well spoken snakes. Some men read a few books and think they can solve the world with a silver tongue. He might have others fooled, but I see through that. I won’t judge those who he runs with based on him.” she raised her hands in peace “but he just don’t sit right with me.”

Charles shifted closer to her unconsciously. Their knees were nearly touching. 

“I did one job with them. Walked away with a thick stack of bills and a weight in my heart I couldn’t explain away. I tried to convince Arthur to leave with me. He said he couldn’t. I was so mad at him. I got on my horse and rode up into the mountains. He followed me of course. We camped out, just the two of us, drank a staggering amount of liquor, and made a plan. He’d help set me up on a homestead, it would let me be independent, and he’d visit when he could. He wouldn’t tell Dutch or Granddaddy where I was, and I wouldn’t hold his life against him. That was the deal.”

Their knees bumped together. He could feel the warmth of her leg against his. 

“He helped you built this place?” Asked Charles quietly. 

She nodded. “ just the two of us. He comes by as often as he can. John visits on occasion too. That boy’s a fool sometimes, but he’s always welcome here. He stayed with me for quite awhile one year actually. Needed some time to figure things out.” She paused and looked at Charles “Don’t tell Arthur about that. Don’t think he knows. He’s still angry with John about leaving, even if he did come back eventually.”

Charles smiled at drew an X across his chest “Cross my heart. Your secret’s safe with me.”

She stared into his eyes, the lamplight flickered around them. He leaned in unconsciously. “You seem like a good man Charles. Promise me you won’t let Dutch think for you.” her hand was on his thigh. 

“Ellie” he said quietly

She hushed him with a soft finger against his lips. She traced a hand over his jaw. “I’m glad it was you that noticed he was gone.”

His hand found her waist and he drew her close against him. He moved slowly, leaning in to place a featherlight kiss on her lips.


	3. A return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles, Arthur and John return to camp.

Charles woke with a pounding headache and the taste of stale liquor on his tongue. He gave a low groan, keeping his eyes shut against the sunlight streaming into the shed, remembering the events of the previous evening. He’d kissed Eleanor. Or she had kissed him. He wasn’t really sure who had initiated and who had reciprocated. A single kiss. Light as a whisper, but it had happened. He had just been able to process the softness of her lips against his before she pulled back to look him in the eye. She’d traced her hand along the line of his jaw, followed the broken skin of the scar on his cheek. They’d sat quietly for sometime, Eleanor’s fingers intertwined with his before she’d fallen asleep in his arms. He’d carried her inside carefully, and laid her softly on her bed before shuttling Arthur inside to the sofa. 

“She likes you.” Arthur had slurred. “I know she does.”

“You’re drunk, old man.” Charles had responded with a sigh, manhandling Arthur through the front door of the cabin. . 

“She. Likes. You.” he poked Charles in the chest to punctuate his statement. “She don’t like nobody.”

“Whatever you say Arthur.” he closed the door softly with a sigh before walking over to John. 

John was passed out on the grass with his mouth hanging open. Charles nudged him with his boot and John gave a low drunken groan. “Still alive there Marston?”

“Just about.”John grumbled

“C’mon lets get you to bed.”

“What’re you my mother?”

“Apparently so. Believe me, it’s not a position I signed up for.”

John stood slowly and wavered a bit on his feet. Charles looped one of John's arms over his shoulder and practically dragged him into the shed.

Charles had laid awake for sometime, listening to the crickets before drifting off. The ghost of Eleanor’s lips on his lingered late into the night. 

* * *

The morning was cool and there was dew on the grass. John was still sleeping soundly in the shed as Charles sat on the porch. The front door to the cabin clattered open and Arthur stumbled out into the soft morning light. He sat heavily next to Charles. 

“Never drinkin’ again.” he mumbled. “Never again.”

Charles laughed and poured Arthur a cup of coffee from the percolator he’d heated over the fire. “You said that last time too.”

“Yeah but this time I mean it.”

Eleanor exited the cabin a few minutes later, her air already pulled back neatly. She patted Arthur on the shoulder and moved to sit in the space between the two men. 

“You fellas still set on riding out today?”

Arthur nodded. “Yeah, we should get back. Been away longer than we should have already.”

“It’s been nice having you here Art. I missed you, you know?”

“Missed you too Eliie.”

“Next time, don’t wait until you’re bleeding before you come visit.” She teased him

“I’ll have you know that I was actually on my way here when I got attacked. Ain’t my fault the local population took offense to my being there.”

“Uh huh, sure.” She responded.

She’d insisted on leaving them with a bundle of fresh bread and cured meat for their journey back to camp. She checked Arthur’s bandage one final time. He’d grumbled as she prodded at his healing incision, and she’d muttered back about the obstinance of men. 

She hugged Arthur and kissed his cheek “Next time I see you, you’d better not be bleeding.”

“But then what would you have to complain about?” he’d replied with a mischievous smile. 

“Don’t you let him run into any more bullets you hear.” she said to John as he hugged her goodbye. 

Charles hung back, unsure of how best to say goodbye to her. 

“Mr Smith.” she called. “You’d best come here. In this house, I say goodbye to my guests properly.”

He stepped towards her and she drew him into a hug. He caught the fresh scent of herbs in her hair and took a moment to linger in her touch. 

“It’s been a pleasure Miss Morgan.” he said quietly, catching her gaze. 

She smiled at him in return and went up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re always welcome here Mr. Smith. Do stop in again if you’re in the area.”

Charles flushed a little. “Yes Ma’am. I’ll be sure to.”

“I mean that Mr Smith.”

“So do I Miss Morgan.”

He held her gaze a moment longer. John cleared his throat loudly, breaking Charles from his reverie. “C’mon we got a long ride ahead of us. Dutch ain’t gonna be pleased we’ve been away for so long.”

With a parting smile, Charles mounted Taima and the three men rode slowly out of the clearing and back towards Blackwater and their waiting camp. 

They’d ridden for nearly an hour when John broke the silence. Arthur had ridden up ahead to scout the trail, leaving John and Charles together. 

“So.” started John. “Eleanor…”

“What about her?”

“Hell of a woman.”

Charles hummed low in response. “Yep.”

There was a beat of silence. 

“She likes you.”

Charles didn’t respond.

“Ellie,” continued John “She don’t trust people easily. Took her years to warm up to me. She let you into her house without a second thought.”

“What are you trying to say John?”

John shrugged and looked out into the distance. “Ain’t trying to say nothin’, Just saying that … you know… she… likes you.”

* * *

Hosea greeted the trio warmly when they returned to camp, while Dutch observed from afar. 

“Glad you’re back with us son.” Hosea said to Arthur as he dismounted from Boadecia . The old man lowered his voice. “How’s Ellie?”

“She’s good. Sends her love.” Arthur replied softly as he removed his saddle bags from the horse. Hosea clapped Arthur on the shoulder. “I miss that girl. She does you good.”

That night Charles found Hosea sitting off at the edge of camp seated up against a tree reading. Charles sat down next to him. The pair sat quietly for a few minutes. 

“So you met Eleanor” Hosea broke the silence.

Charles nodded.

“I’m guessing you have questions.” continued Hosea, closing his book.

Charles shrugged “Not really any of my business.”

“You're part of this gang. Makes you part of the family. As far as I see it, that makes it your business” Hosea looked out across the horizon towards the setting sun. “Ellie is Arthur’s rock, whether he admits it or not.”

“They seem real close, despite the distance.”

“Oh you should have seen them when they were young. Couple ‘a spitfires those two. Ellie would have burned the whole world down to get to Arthur. Thought she was going to kill him when I first met her. She was an angry young woman.” Hosea sighed “Arthur was angry too in his younger years. Still is some days.”

“You know her pretty well then?” asked Charles

Hosea hummed in response. “I did for a time. Musta been 10 years ago now when we met. Longer maybe. Time’s a funny thing when you get old.”

He looked out over the setting sun, lost in thought. “I remember sitting in a saloon and Dutch was explaining his next big scheme to Arthur and I. Bank robbery if I remember right. He was just launching into his plan when this skinny little girl marches up to our table, staring Arthur dead in the eye and starts hollering at him. Oh the look on his face… I’ll remember it till I die. Never seen that boy look so scared in all his life as when little Ellie Morgan brought her thunder down on him. She winds up and slaps him so hard across the face you could hear it all across the whole bar. That room went silent... you coulda heard a pin drop. Arthur doesn’t miss a beat. Looks up at me, massages his jaw, and says ‘excuse me a moment fellas.’ He stands and walks out the saloon door. She stood there staring daggers at Dutch and I. I remember saying that she’d best hurry if she wants to catch up with him. Know what she said to that?”

Charles shrugged

“She said there wasn’t anywhere in the world he could run to where she wouldn’t find him. Says hell itself could swallow him right then and she’s still track him down.I believed her too. Never seen such anger in a young woman before. She turned on her heel and stomped outta the bar after him. Helluva girl.” Hosea said with a congenial sigh. “When Arthur showed up back at camp that night, she was with him. I could tell she didn’t trust us, but it never really bothered me. Dutch on the other hand…”

Hosea chuckled and shook his head. “Arthur hadn’t told us he had a sister. I think Dutch saw her as a threat to our odd little family.” he paused. “They got off on the wrong foot and were never really able to correct it. It’s a shame really, I miss that girl.”

“She seemed a bit more than distrustful of Dutch.” Said Charles in a low voice. “Said his name like it was poison.”

“Ah… well… They have a … complicated history Dutch and Ellie. Not my tale to share I’m afraid.”

Charles hummed in assent. “You seem mighty fond of her.”

“Bessie and I always wanted a daughter.” Sighed Hosea wistfully. “Bessie took to her right away. She was a sweet girl, under all that anger.”

“She didn’t seem all that angry when I met her. Hardened maybe, but aren’t we all?”

“She’s found some peace I think, in the past few years. Having a place to call her own has done her well. I’ve stopped in to see her a few times. She let me stay for a while after Bessie passed. She’s a bit of a safe harbour for some of us. Arthur, John, myself… we’ve all leaned on her at one time or another.”

“For someone that’s never spoken of around camp, she seems to have made a lasting impression with you all.”

“She’s a Morgan.” Said Hosea definitively. “Leaving a lasting impression is a family trait.”

* * *

The next few weeks were hectic, frantic, chaotic. Dutch’s Blackwater job had been a disaster. The gang had fled Blackwater leaving a trail of blood in their wake. Their hideout up in the mountains had been cold, physically, and psychologically. Folk had died, those left alive were hanging on by a thread. Charles hadn’t known them long, but Mac, Davey, Jenny… he’d grown fond of them, had started to trust in them. Dutch’s grand speech leading up to the Ferry job had whipped them up, had made them feel invincible. In the crash that followed he found himself adrift on a sea of doubts and guilt. 

He heard Eleanor’s words in his head as the gang rode up into the mountains 

_ “I don’t trust that man. … Some men read a few books and think they can solve the world with a silver tongue.” _

Dutch scared him. When Charles had joined the gang, Dutch had sold himself as a robin hood rogue, stealing from the rich and fighting against the chains of civilization. In Blackwater, he’d shot an innocent woman at point blank range, stared into her eye as he pulled the trigger. Charles had been close, and instinctively grabbed the barrel of Dutch’s gun, trying to stop him firing more into the crowd of civilians. He’d burned his hand on the hot barrel, large blisters had blossomed on his palm as he retracted his hand from Dutch’s revolver. Dutch’s eyes had flashed with a fierce anger, but the crush of law enforcement bearing down on them had prevented any retaliation. 

Since the, Dutch had eyed him with distrust, had hardly spoken to him. Charles had never been as close to Dutch as John or Arthur, but a chill had entered their interactions which had not existed prior.

* * *

The gang passed over the mountains and into tranquil New Hanover. Valentine was an uninspiring rural town, smelling of wet lanolin and dung, but it put Charles at ease. He felt he could breathe more freely in the wide open spaces of the plains than he had in snow and wind of the mountains. 

Charles and Arthur had gone hunting for bison, tracking the animals across the grasslands, and returning with meat to feed the whole camp, skins to make chaps, boots, and bags. 

“I heard about a trapper.” Arthur said to Charles, while he worked on drying the bison skin back at camp. “Up in Big Valley. Pays decent for good skins. Hear he does good work too. Ellie sells to him sometimes”

“I’ll have to stop in if i’m up that way.”

There was a moment of quiet between the two men. “You plannin’ on being back out that way?” asked Arthur, looking directly at Charles. 

Charles pondered for a moment. “I hope so.”

“She likes you.” Arthur said in a low voice. 

“So you keep telling me.”

“You should see her again.”

“What is this? You giving me your blessing?”

Arthur laughed “Oh, no… I don’t get no say in how she lives her life. She handles her own business.” He shrugged. “But… She’s been alone a long while. And if it was you she chose to spend her time with, I wouldn’t have no complaints.”

Charles hummed in response.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m mighty fond of you Charles, ” Arthur looked at him gravely. "but if you hurt her, I'll kill you… If she don’t kill you herself first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if gun barrels get hot enough to burn skin, but I like this idea so I don't really care XD


End file.
